


Union (Home Is The Nicest Word There Is Remix)

by anatomical_heart



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Arranged Marriage Vibes, Crooked Remix 2019, Forced-ish Marriage, M/M, Marriage, Not A Happy Story But Hopefully An Interesting One, Remix, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Unrequited Love, medication mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatomical_heart/pseuds/anatomical_heart
Summary: Jon looks down at his tie, smoothing it into place for the third time in twenty minutes. He's nervous. Would deny it to anyone who might ask, but no one has. No one will. No one knows what's happening, why he's there. Just Tommy. And the man he's waiting for.





	Union (Home Is The Nicest Word There Is Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruthvsreality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthvsreality/gifts).

> This story is a remix of the first chapter from [Home Is The Nicest Word There Is](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14961327/chapters/34671447) by ruthvsreality.
> 
> I still have the visceral memory of reading _Home Is The Nicest Word There Is_. That first chapter grabbed me in a way I haven't forgotten. This story is an homage to that feeling; this story is a thank you. 
> 
> Much appreciation to A, A, and L, if only for listening to my constant neuroses and self-inflicted anxieties about the origin and execution of this idea.

Nobody tells you that having a soulmate isn't the same thing as love at first sight when you're growing up. Yes, there's a person – maybe even multiple people – out there made specifically for you, but it doesn't mean that when you meet them for the first time you're able to see them fully, or know who they really are, or start loving them like the stories tell us we're supposed to. Knowing they're meant for you doesn’t tell you _anything_ about them. Not their gender, or the age you'll meet. Not their political affiliation or the issues they have with their family. Nothing about whether they like sleeping on their stomach, or chew with their mouth open, or how long they take in the shower. It’s actually kind of fucked up when you think about it: when you meet them, they’re just a stranger, same as anyone off the street. What if you don't like each other? What if you can't stand them? Then what? You separate and you're just supposed to... go on with your life without them? Alone, but forever linked to them, whether you like it or not? What if the Powers That Be got it wrong? What if God was wrong? Nobody helps you prepare for that. Nothing.

These are the thoughts swirling inside Jon's head as he sits in the courthouse lobby at 8:07 on a Tuesday morning.

He’s early. He made a point of it. Tommy had told him he needed to make a good first impression; he hates that Tommy's so on board with this, as though it made any sense at all. 

_It’s your soulmate,_ Tommy had shrugged, handing Jon his best suit jacket. (Navy, classic.) 

_It’s an arranged marriage,_ Jon said, slipping each arm inside and pulling it on. 

_That’s fucked up, man._

_That’s what it is! Tell me it’s not._

Tommy didn't respond; he didn’t like that. He looked so… uncomfortable, or sad, or something. Tommy was one of those guys who believed that the hard part was over once you met your soulmate, and it really fucked with his head to think that this whole thing was anything other than something for Jon to be thankful for. _Jon…_

_What,_ Jon snapped. Funny: he was supposed to be the optimistic one. 

Tommy looked at him for a long time, before reaching out to bridge the gap between them by straightening Jon's tie. _Give the guy a chance. Make a good impression. Try, huh?_

Jesus fucking Christ, Jon thought. _Why?_

_He's got your mark._

What a rousing defense.

_I’ve gotta go,_ Jon sighed, feeling utterly defeated and too tired to fight anymore; he might as well have been heading to his own funeral. Jon couldn't believe Tommy didn't understand that. The one thing he couldn't, maybe.

_Okay,_ Tommy said, a little unsure. Then, _You want me to come with you?_

Jon opened his mouth to say something, then closed it after a beat. He sighed again and pulled the corners of his mouth back, lips stretching and flattening over his teeth in a grimace of hard-to-swallow acceptance. When he really thought about it, he realized that if he and Tommy both got into the car, Jon wouldn’t go through with it. And he _had_ to go through with it. 

Lifting his gaze to Tommy’s, Jon shook his head. _No. I’ll be okay._

Tommy hugged him, then, taking him by surprise. 

Jon inhaled deeply through his nose and closed his eyes, letting his arms circle around Tommy’s ribs. _Thanks,_ he mumbled against Tommy’s shoulder. His body betrayed him by feeling comforted and soothed for just a moment, the familiar smell and caring touch of his oldest friend. His secret love.

Jon didn't dare let himself try to imagine a life with Tommy in their last moments together before everything changed, because there was no way it could happen. Jon often spoke to the kids in his creative writing class about the power of imagination – how it wasn't just for the little ones. That if they could dream of a world they wanted to see, they could make it real.

Standing on the precipice of a future Jon didn't want, all of that felt hollow and cheap.

_Text me if… well. Just text me,_ Tommy said.

_I will,_ Jon promised, before pulling away, giving Tommy a half-hearted smile and escaping out of his apartment and down the stairs to meet his fate.

An announcement over the PA system pulls Jon from his memory.

_Would Jacob Miller please report to ID Verification? Jacob Miller, please report to the Identification Office for soulmark verification, please. Thank you._

Jon lets out a relieved breath at hearing a name other than his own, and checks the inside of his jacket pocket to make sure he has his ID cards with him. Yep. Still right where he put them before leaving his car.

He looks down at his tie, smoothing it into place for the third time in twenty minutes. He's nervous. Would deny it to anyone who might ask, but no one has. No one will. No one knows what's happening, why he's there. Just Tommy. And the man he's waiting for.

He looks around the room, watching a steady stream of people come and go as the day begins.

_Let's meet at the courthouse,_ the man had said in a text message to Jon three days ago. Jon agreed because it was strategic: if they met at the courthouse, they could get everything done in less than an hour.

Jon looks at his watch. 8:22. Any time, now.

He licks his lips, lets out an anxious breath, and studies the ward map of Middlesex County, Massachusetts. He specifically chose a seat facing away from the door so he wouldn't be desperately searching for a face in the crowd every time the doors slid open. He kicks himself for not bringing his flight anxiety meds with him. Popping a quick Diazepam before his sham wedding sounds _great_.

Suddenly, over his left shoulder, he hears, "Jon?"

Jon turns to look, and comes face to face with the man he was informed is his soulmate almost three weeks ago. His name is Howard Daniel Pfeiffer, and he’s a lawyer from Wilmington, Delaware. He's wearing the exact same color as Jon, and Jon realizes they look a matched set.

“Call me ‘Dan,’” the man says, sticking his hand out to shake Jon’s. 

Jon looks down at Dan’s hand like he has no idea what Dan’s trying to do; he looks back up to make sure it's not a joke. Jon's imagined this moment so many times since he was a kid – finding his soulmate, meeting them for the first time. It was nothing like this: a grim, businesslike handshake inside a courthouse where they’ll be getting married in just a few minutes – not out of love, but out of necessity. Dan looks back expectantly; this is not a joke.

“Nice to meet you,” Jon lies as he reaches out and shakes Dan’s hand, because what else is he going to say? _I never meant for my life to turn out this way and I hate this,_ might be the impulse, but he thinks of what lies on the other side of their marriage: a guarantee of safety and security. A materially better life than he has right now, measurable in leaps and bounds. So he bites his tongue and sticks to civility.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Dan says. He has this nasal baritone voice that makes Jon wonder if he got into fights when he was a kid, maybe deviated his septum. Does that mean he'll snore? Jon immediately regrets that's where his brain goes, and stops the train of thought dead in its tracks; his stomach lurches at the prospect of having sex with this man as soon as tonight. Dan's not physically repulsive – he has a no-nonsense, close-cropped haircut, a nice body, and probably the bluest eyes he's ever seen – but given the gravity of what's happening here, Jon can't picture giving himself over to the person who's taking him away from everything he's ever known.

An awkward silence falls over them and Jon can feel his hackles start to rise as he looks around at people walking by, witnessing this unbelievable moment in the periphery of their own lives.

“You look nice,” Dan offers, his voice softer and a little encouraging.

Jon looks back at Dan with wide eyes, unable to keep the surprise off of his face. He doesn’t thank Dan for the compliment, just says, “I thought I should dress up for the occasion.” 

Dan nods once, like he understands. “Right.”

They don’t speak again until their number is called, and they go upstairs to room 37B. 

Three people await Jon and Dan in room 37B. The first is the justice of the peace – a stately looking older woman in a crisp suit and a high-necked shirt – standing behind a lectern. Flanking her on either side are two expressionless men, the official witnesses to this farce of a marriage. Jon can't help but think about who they are when they're not here, in this room, watching people get married. Is it hard to watch, even when it's happy? Does it make them feel like they have a sense of purpose in their lives? Do they ever think about how unhappy one of the people might be in front of them, getting married to someone they don't know and only met because of a soulmark matching service? Will they think about Jon later that night? Tell their families or the people who mean something to them how sad and scared Jon looked?

Jon can feel the panic start to crawl up his chest as the justice puts her reading glasses on and clears her throat. _This is really happening,_ he thinks, eyes darting between the three figures in front of him, not wanting to look at Dan next to him at all. The three of them have the power to stop this, and they're not. They're not going to step in. They have no reason to step in, this is their purpose.

The justice begins. "On this, the 25th of April, 2007, we are gathered together to join these two people in the bond of marriage. We acknowledge and witness your intention to join your lives together – to create this union – which will henceforth be recognized by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts as official, binding, and good."

Jon’s never been to a courthouse ceremony before; he assumed it would be different. He assumed the justice would read something that sounded like stereo instructions – incomprehensible, legally-binding jargon. But she reads deliberately, the tone and cadence of her voice soothing in the way taupe walls are soothing.

"Do you, Howard Daniel Pfeiffer, and you, Jonathan Edward Favreau, agree to enter into this union of your own free will? Free of coercion and duress?"

Dread hooks into Jon's belly. The justice _must_ know. So why isn't she saying something? "I do," he croaks.

"I do," Dan repeats.

“Have you chosen to write your own vows?” The justice asks.

Jon and Dan look at each other.

“No,” Dan says.

“No,” Jon says.

She is not phased, and does not miss a beat. “Very well. Do you, Howard Daniel, take this man, Jonathan Edward, to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear in the presence of these witnesses to honor this union?”

“I do,” Dan says without hesitation. 

Jon feels a headache start up behind his right eye and takes a deep breath in, bracing himself for what’s coming. 

“And do you, Jonathan Edward, take this man, Howard Daniel, to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear in the presence of these witnesses to honor this union?”

It’s a surreal moment – looking at a stranger and having those words asked of him. He feels the stretch and pull at the edges of himself as he struggles to stay in the moment… but he can’t. This is _insane_. 

_Somebody stop this,_ he thinks desperately, like he’s looking into the lights of a train speeding toward him.

One of the witnesses standing beside the justice coughs, not very subtly.

“Sorry–” Jon says, automatically, blinking and turning once more to look at the justice. “Could you repeat the question?”

Her impassive expression betrays nothing as she prompts him again, “Do you, Jonathan Edward, take this man, Howard Daniel, to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you swear in the presence of these witnesses to honor this union?”

Jon looks back at Dan, who lifts his eyes from the floor, traces of annoyance and embarrassment lingering on his face. 

Jon doesn’t want to respond; he wants to scream.

Finally, he says, “I do.”

“You may now exchange your rings.”

For a brief moment, Jon thinks he might be sick at the thought of having to wear a ring. But Dan states, “We won’t be exchanging rings today.”

The justice gives a small nod, unflappable as ever. “Very well. By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I declare this union binding and legal. You may now kiss your spouse, if you so choose.” 

Dan and Jon stare at each other awkwardly, and Jon can feel his face getting hot; the moment is long and awful and no one does anything to stop it. Jon looks away, and Dan does not try to kiss him.

They sign their marriage license using a pen that comes from Dan’s pocket, and receive two notary-stamped original copies to take with them. 

Dan shakes the hand of the justice and two witnesses when he thanks them for their services; Jon does not. Instead, Jon pulls out his phone to check his messages. Jon doesn’t want to text Tommy just yet, but he hoped something would be waiting for him by the time the ceremony was over.

His inbox is empty.

“Hey,” Dan says, settling a hand on Jon's shoulder 

Jon startles, feeling caught, a bit. 

Dan removes his hand quickly, his brow furrowed in something like apprehension or concern; god, his eyes are blue. “Do you want to go get breakfast and talk? My treat.”

What choice does Jon have? His husband is asking.

Giving a small nod, Jon says, “Okay.”

They walk out of the courthouse together, in silence.


End file.
